


The Comfort of Home

by Unnur



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Family Feels, Gen, Growth, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Justin ACCEPTS love and care from his family, Justin is loved and cared for by his family, Recovery, Sickfic, a bunch of introspection from everyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:07:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27163621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unnur/pseuds/Unnur
Summary: Since being adopted, Justin is slowly learning what it means to have a home.When he gets sick, he lets himself be taken care of.Told from multiple perspectives, this is an explorative look at familyhood and growth.
Relationships: Justin Foley & Clay Jensen, Justin Foley & Lainie Jensen, Justin Foley & Matt Jensen, Justin Foley & The Jensens
Comments: 18
Kudos: 40





	The Comfort of Home

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, okay, I’m posting a fic, holy shit. Hello!
> 
> I’m weak for Justin Foley. I’m weak for sickfics. This is the result.
> 
>  **Things I feel you should know before reading the story:**
> 
> **Timeline-wise, this story takes place somewhere around season three, but in a world where the main events of season three (and four) didn’t happen. So, no murder mystery is hanging above our boys’ heads. Plus, Justin has already admitted to his family that he wasn’t clean, and went through treatment.**
> 
> **I love the English language; I think it’s incredibly rich and really beautiful, but it’s also my second language, and, to be frank – a grammatical nightmare. I apologize in advance for any clunky dialogue, or clunky anything, really. I tried my best.**
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

**The Comfort of Home**

A few minutes past eight in the evening, Clay walks out of the library, feeling tired but content.

Over the last few months, his good old headphones have started showing their age – after holding up for over five impressive years – and have finally stopped working altogether about a month ago. When he wanted to buy new ones, Lainie suggested he could go back to tutoring, but do it privately this time, as a paid job rather than a part of his school’s tutoring program. He waved it off at first, almost automatically; the time he used to tutor felt so far away now, so distant. Who he was then, _that Clay_ is an entirely different person from who he was today. The notion of tutoring again sounded foreign, almost bizarre – as if it was borrowed from somebody else’s life. But, over the course of the next few days, he found himself reconsidering it: actually, why not? It could be a flexible way for him to earn money and gain some financial independence (and going back to work at the Crestmont was definitely out of the question), and… it’s also something he really liked doing. Teaching. He got a lot of satisfaction from it, at the time. It felt like he had something to give, and he was giving it; getting back to it could be nice. In his heart, he felt like it was something Jeff would want for him, too. And so, he decided to give it a chance.

As it turned out, tutoring was a lot like riding a bike: after a while of not doing it, he was a bit rusty at first, but it didn’t take long for him to find his rhythm again and get back into the swing of it. And he really enjoys it. Now, he teaches two sessions a week, sometimes three, and always comes out of them with a good feeling. A feeling of doing. That same feeling spreads through him right now, as he walks down the stairs leading into the open street, subconsciously smiling.

The street is filled with quiet sounds of life; a dog barking somewhere, cars passing by on the road, a distant laugh. As he walks along the sidewalk to his car, Clay breathes in the cool evening air, taking in his peaceful surroundings.

Once he enters the library’s parking lot, he feels his phone buzzing in his pocket.

**_1 Message from Justin:_ **

_hey dude, you still at the library? my shift is done in like 10 mins, can you maybe pick me up on your way home when you’re done?_

Clay stares at the message for a moment, and his brows furrow slightly; Monet’s wasn’t very far from their house, and Justin always preferred getting there and returning home by foot.

He decides to type a reply now, and think later.

_**Clay** : Sure, yeah. Just finished with the session, on my way to the car now. Be there in 15 _

_**Justin** : sweet, thanks :) _

_**Clay** : Everything alright? _

_**Justin** : yea just tired _

_**Clay** :_ 👍

Clay gets into the car and puts his backpack behind him, in the backseat. Inside, the air is stale and a little suffocating, and he puts the back windows down a bit, leaving two thin slits to let some fresh air in.

The drive to Monet’s is quiet, and the thoughts Clay put off for later make their way back to him now. He was relieved to hear his brother was just tired, but him asking for the ride home – just the fact that he asked for it – still lingered in his mind. It’s a strange feeling; slight concern mixed with a certain type of faint gladness he doesn’t really have a name for. It’s been a little over seven months since Justin has started living with them officially, and even though it has gotten less rare for him to be asking for anything, it still doesn’t happen a lot. It’s something he’s been working through, though, and when Clay thinks back to the beginning, he can definitely see the progress he’s made; for the first few weeks after being released into their custody, Justin didn’t ask for anything, _at all_. It was as if he was scared that if he’d demand too much – or express any measure of want for any change whatsoever in the existing situation – they might regret the decision to adopt him into the family, and reverse it.

Clay remembers that morning, a couple weeks after Hannah’s wake. They were just about to leave to go to school when a notebook fell out of Justin’s new backpack, and after he picked it up and put it back inside, Clay noticed he just left it open.

_“Aren’t you going to close it?” Clay asked._

_Justin hesitated for a second. “I, uh, I can’t. The zipper fell off.”_

_Taking a closer look now, he really couldn’t find a zipper on Justin’s bag. Clay frowned. “It fell off?”_

_“Yeah. It broke off a couple times already and I managed to put it back in place, but yesterday it got stuck with the bag open like this and came off when I tried to fix it, but this time I couldn’t put it back in.”_

_Clay looked at him, and Justin’s eyes suddenly looked a bit lost. “It’s cool, man, let’s just go–” he went for the door, but Clay stopped him._

_“No, why didn’t you say anything? Hold on,” he dropped his backpack on the floor and ran upstairs, leaving Justin by the front door. Quickly, he grabbed his old backpack from the closet, and ran back downstairs, handing it to Justin. Justin just... looked at it. And back at Clay. Like he didn’t know what to do._

_“Come on, use this one. Or do you want to keep picking up your stuff all day?” Clay teased._

_Breathing out a laugh, Justin grabbed the bag. “Oh, shut up, Jensen.” Clay rolled his eyes, and once Justin finished moving his things from his bag to the one Clay gave him, they left for school._

_A few minutes into the ride, Justin cleared his throat. “Thank you.”_

_Clay blinked. “What?”_

_“I said thanks. You know, like, for the bag.”_

_Something about the way Justin’s voice had sounded made Clay’s heart feel a little shaken, and, suddenly, he was filled with an overwhelming sense of protectiveness._

_“Don’t mention it.” He said. “And get ready for another shopping trip, ‘cause the minute Mom hears you need a new bag–”_

_“But I don’t,” Justin tried, “We just bought this one last week–”_

_“–And the zipper was probably already messed up when you bought it. You need a new one, and the minute Mom hears about that, she’s taking you to the mall again,” Clay smirked, “Which will probably happen tomorrow. And you saw how much she enjoyed shopping for clothes with you last week, she’s probably not going to stop with just a bag, so. Just saying. Prepare yourself.”_

_Clay was thoroughly amused, and Justin laughed._

And so it was. Clay’s prediction was accurate: despite Justin’s protests, Clay brought up the faulty zipper issue over dinner, and Lainie made a plan with Justin to go shopping together for a new bag the next day – but not before a very important conversation developed around the dinner table. Matt and Lainie both encouraged Justin to tell them; when something happens, when he needs anything, when he wants or doesn’t want something; to tell them about it. If there’s food he doesn’t like on the table, let them know; if there’s food he’d like to have on the table sometime, let them know about that, too; they want to know. Want to know how he feels, what he needs, what he likes and dislikes.

_“I know this is still new, to all of us,” Lainie said, glancing over to Clay and Matt, then looking back to Justin. “But you are a part of this family, Justin. You have a home here. And you’re not disposable, honey.” She nodded at him, voice gentle, yet determined and unwavering. “Don’t be afraid of expressing your needs to us, of taking up space. We want you to.”_

_When Clay turned to look at him, Justin’s eyes were filled with tears. Lainie reached her hand over to rest on top of his, and looked up at him. “Okay?”_

_With a shaky breath, Justin brought up his other hand to wipe at his eyes, and spoke slowly. “Okay, yeah. Yeah, I’ll try. Thank you.”_

_“Of course,” Matt smiled, his voice warm as he spoke. “And we’re glad to hear it, kid. It’s a process, and we know it’s a lot to adjust to and that it’ll take time, but we’re here, and we're not going anywhere. You can come to us with anything.”_

_Giving a small nod, Justin looked up with a tearful smile as a relieved expression spread across his face._

_There was a beat of silence, and Lainie gave his hand a gentle squeeze before pulling her hand back. “Okay.” She smiled. “Now, sleep well tonight, because tomorrow we're driving down to the mall again!” She exclaimed excitedly, and turned to look at Clay. “Do you want to join us, honey? I hear they just opened a new ice cream shop. We can make a day out of it.”_

_“Sure.” Clay smiled._

_As they went back to eating their dinner and the conversation shifted, Clay looked at Justin. He seemed far away for a minute, full of thought, but at ease; all tension seemed to have left his features, leaving his body relaxed, and when their eyes met and Clay offered him a smile, he took a deep breath, and smiled back._

A lot has changed since then. Much water has flowed under the bridge, and today, Justin’s at a different place; much more relaxed and freer than he was during those first few weeks. Before he can wonder at the thought any further, Clay arrives at Monet’s. He stops the car in front of the café, and pulls his phone out of his pocket.

_**Clay** : I’m here _

He sends the text, and it’s marked as read a few seconds later. When he looks up, the café’s door swings open and Justin emerges out of the building. As he crosses the road, walking over to the car, Clay waves at him, and Justin zips up his sweatshirt and waves back, smiling.

"Hey, thanks for coming, man,” Justin says, sliding into the car.

“Yeah, no problem.” Clay says, and Justin gives him a small smile. He then closes his eyes and leans his head back against the seat, looking wiped.

“Busy shift?” 

“More like insane,” Justin chuckles tiredly, and brings his thumb and index finger to the bridge of his nose. “This elderly couple – they must’ve been, like, eighty-something – they had their _Diamond Anniversary_ at the café, and–”

“ _Diamond_?”

Justin looks at him, his eyes a bit glossy and unfocused. “Yeah, that was a new one for me, too. Sixty years.”

“Oh, wow.”

“Yeah.” Justin’s hand moves to massage his forehead. “Well, they first met at Monet’s, so they decided to have their anniversary celebration there. And they were very sweet, but the amount of guests was just… a lot. Like, it’s a medium-sized café, you know?” The last words are caught in his throat, and Clay watches as Justin coughs into his sleeve. He looks more than just tired. Is he… shivering?

And then, as if on cue, Justin clears his throat and says, “Plus, I feel kinda feverish.”

Clay frowns. “What? Since when?” It comes out harsher than he intended, but the concern is still evident in his voice.

“Uh, I don’t know, started feeling progressively shittier as the shift went, I guess?”

“And you didn’t ask to leave?”

“I thought I could handle it,” comes the somewhat amused retort, “And I could, by the way. Plus, we were so understaffed, it would have been a real dick move to just leave them like that.”

Clay’s silent for a moment. “Well, why did you text me you were just tired?”

“‘Cause I knew your _dramatic ass_ would freak out if I told you I’m not feeling well over a text…!”

Clay gives a shocked look.

“Dude, you know you’re dramatic,” Justin grins, “You’re literally freaking out right now!”

Clay has to admit: he has a point. “Whatever.”

Justin then takes out a napkin from his pocket, and softly blows his nose into it. Clay can see now that he’s paler than usual, except for his cheeks, which are tinged pink.

“Let’s just go,” Clay says, and starts the car.

Driving home, they settle into a comfortable silence, and it doesn’t take long for Justin to fall asleep. One minute, he’s leaning the side of his head against the window, and the next one, Clay can hear soft snoring coming from his right. Usually, they listen to the radio when they drive together, but Clay decides to skip turning it on tonight. As they come to a stop at a red light, he reaches to press the back of his hand to his brother's forehead, gently, careful not to wake him. Clay’s brow furrows; Justin _is_ a bit warm. Studying him, Clay notices a slight tremble running through his frame, and he puts the back windows up again before stepping on the gas pedal and accelerating the car as the light turns green.

–––– 

“Hey, Justin, we’re here. Come on.” Clay gently nudges at his brother’s shoulder. “Justin.”

“Mmm…” Justin sluggishly moves his head away from the window, his eyes slowly fluttering open, but remain half-lidded.

“We’re here.” Clay repeats. “Come on, let’s get inside.”

Justin nods as he brings up a hand to rub at his eyes, and the boys get out of the car. The cool evening air seems to wake him up a bit, and they make the short walk over to the outhouse.

As they enter, Clay puts down his backpack in its usual place, underneath the coat rack by the door, and Justin wastes no time kicking off his shoes and getting out of his brown Monet’s shirt. He changes into some more comfortable clothes and collapses onto his bed, coughing a little.

“I’m gonna run in the house, tell Mom we’re here and take a shower before dinner. Hey,” Clay calls, walking over to Justin’s bed, “You’re coming to eat, right? Or should I really be concerned?” He teases, only half-joking.

Justin chuckles quietly, but it’s warm. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming, chill.” He mumbles, his voice beginning to sound a little rough around the edges. “You think I’m planning on missing the famous _Jensen Lasagna_ , after you hyped it up so much?”

“Okay, do not disrespect the lasagna like that.”

“What? When have I disrespected it?”

“Just now, insinuating I hyped it up too much. It’s famous for a reason, and Dad only makes it a couple times a year, to, like, keep it magical and special and shit. I’m telling you, you truly haven't experienced the richness of life until you’ve had it.”

Justin half-laughs, half-coughs. “Alright, alright, Jesus, I was already sold.”

Clay smirks, satisfied. “Good.” A moment later, studying his brother’s tired, but genuine smile, he adds, “But it’s fine, if you don’t feel up to it. Like, if you wanna call it an early night, that’s okay.”

Justin’s smile widens a bit. “No, I know,” he nods, the movement small and quick, “But I honestly am a little hungry. That shift was a fucking workout,” he laughs, “I feel like I burned calories.”

Clay huffs out a laugh, amusement glinting in his eyes as he rolls them. “I’ll never understand why you agreed to start waiting tables, like, additionally. Wasn’t barista-ing enough?”

Justin looks at him like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Better tips, dude.” He shrugs, sniffling, and then pulls out a tissue from the box sitting on the nightstand and presses it to his nose. “I’m a hit with the customers.”

“Yeah, I’m sure this–” he gestures to Justin’s hand, still holding the tissue to his face, “–is really selling it.”

“Alright, fuck you,” comes the begrudgingly amused reply. Justin’s voice is light, and Clay chuckles. “Go shower already, I’ll see you inside.”

––––

After Clay leaves, it takes a while for Justin to convince himself to get up.

The first few minutes, he merely relishes in the comfort of laying still on his bed, not having to move. He did not feel awful, but after a whole day of feeling like he’s coming down with something, and fighting it, trying to appear healthy, he was just exhausted. Plus, the quiet was really nice, and he found himself soothed by the peaceful familiarity of the outhouse.

Breathing in the quietude, Justin lets his eyes close for a few seconds, tempted to fully give himself to sleep, before finally pushing himself upright and into a half-sitting, half-laying position, resting his back up against the headboard. Because even though he doesn’t really _f_ _eel_ like eating – he knows he’s hungry. In his life, he’d learned to recognize hunger in all its forms; right now, when he still has a little appetite left, he knows he should eat.

As he was getting up, in spite of the dull aching in his muscles, to grab his shoes, there was a knock on the door.

“Justin, honey, it’s me,” Lainie’s voice carries inside, right before she opens the door and enters the outhouse.

“Hey,” he greets her, smiling warmly as she makes her way to him.

“Hi, love.” She smiles, speaking softly. “It’s good to have you guys home. How was work?”

Justin clears his throat. “It was… a lot.”

Lainie nods. “Clay tells me you’re not feeling well?”

“Uh, yeah. It’s fine, though.” He sniffles. “I’ll probably sleep it off, be better by tomorrow.”

Lainie studies her youngest; he looks worn out. His eyes glassy and a bit unfocused, face a little flushed around the cheeks, but pale otherwise. Motherly concern pricks at her heart.

“Let’s hope so.” She brings her hand up to cup his cheek, and frowns. “You do feel warm. Mind if I take your temperature?” She asks, waving the thermometer she brought with her, in her other hand.

With Justin shrugging his shoulders in silent agreement, Lainie presses the thermometer to his forehead, sighing. “Well, you do have a fever, but a slight one. Hopefully, it stays this low and won’t get any higher.” She concludes, her voice laden with sympathy. “You feel up to dinner? I can make you something light, if you’d like.”

“Uh, yeah, I think so. Appetite comes with eating, right?” He laughs. “But after Clay raved about it all week, I think I’d like to have the lasagna.”

Relieved to hear her son hasn’t lost his appetite completely, Lainie smiles. “Sure, sweetheart.”

She watches as he puts his shoes back on, and, together, they leave the outhouse. With Justin huddling in on himself as the cool night air meets them, Lainie decides to brew some tea once they get inside, and tries to recall if they have any ginger left.

With Clay, whenever he got sick, she and Matt have always resolved to ease his discomfort and treat his fevers with Tylenol, or Ibuprofen. With Justin, though, it isn’t quite as simple. Unfortunately, being a recovering addict means he has to avoid a lot of over-the-counter medications, as many of them pose a high risk of relapse. While most cold and flu medicines are out of the question, some brands, such as Tylenol, offer both safe and unsafe options for people in recovery (and Lainie has already stocked their medicine cabinet with the safe ones, cleaning out the rest months ago), and Ibuprofen is generally considered safe to use; but with Justin still being newly sober, taking any kind of medication – even in small amounts – might jeopardize his recovery. It’s no picnic. And so, as long as it’s not absolutely necessary, they’ll have to resort to other means to make him more comfortable. 

Matt is in the kitchen, cutting vegetables for a salad, when Lainie and Justin walk in through the back door.

“Hey, kid,” Matt smiles at Justin as he takes a seat at the kitchen table, while Lainie goes to unfreeze some ginger slices and boil them in water, giving Matt a kiss on the cheek on her way.

“Hey,” Justin returns a smile, leaning back in the chair.

“How was your day?”

“Mostly fine,” he stretches his back a little, drawing in a deep breath, and coughing a bit on the exhale.

“Heard you’re not feeling too well. Sorry, budd,” Matt offers a sympathetic smile.

“It’s okay, really.” Justin shrugs. “I mean, it’s not too bad. I think I just need to sleep it off.”

“He _is_ running a low fever,” Lainie steps in, sharing a knowing glance with Matt. “Hopefully, it’ll be a quick bug, but we’ll keep an eye on it.” 

A few minutes go by with an easy conversation between the three of them, and Justin appreciates these moments a lot. How easy they are, how light. How they can just talk, not really about anything, and it’s smooth and effortless, and nice. The simplicity of it.

Just as Lainie pours a steaming mug of tea and sets it down in front of him, warning that it’s still very hot – with Justin promptly accepting it and thanking her – Clay walks into the kitchen, hair slightly damp and shiny.

“The house smells _incredible_ ,” he states, excitement and anticipation evident in his voice.

“It does,” Lainie agrees, acknowledging her husband’s work with a loving look, which he returns, as Clay takes a seat next to Justin at the table.

“Almost didn’t expect to see you here.” He remarks, a faint hint of a smirk on his face.

Justin pulls the sleeves of his sweatshirt down and over his hands, wrapping them around the steaming mug for warmth, and leans forward. “Why? I told you I’m coming.”

“I, for sure, thought you were going to fall asleep again.” 

Justin rolls his eyes, amused, and before he can gather a response, Matt’s voice draws their attention.

“Alright, guys, it’s officially ready,” he exclaims, carefully taking the pyrex pan out of the oven and placing it on the counter. “We’ll give it a few minutes to cool down.”

Clay closes his eyes, drawing in a deep breath and savoring the rich aroma. “Ah, _yes_.”

Watching him, Justin chuckles.

“Let’s set the table.”

–––– 

Matt has always enjoyed cooking.

As a teenager, he had fun experimenting in the kitchen, finding a sense of adventure in following recipes and preparing meals for his family. By the time he turned 18, he was responsible for making most of his family’s meals, and his strong love for cooking was fully formed. It gave him a chance to be creative and indulge in some ‘play’ time – losing himself in the rituals of chopping, stirring and tasting, exploring how different ingredients react with one another and trying out new things from time to time. He took great pleasure in it.

Now, as a father and a husband, being able to cook for his own family brought him immense satisfaction. There was nothing more gratifying than seeing his wife and sons enjoy his cooking. He loves making their favorite meals, watching their eyes sparkle with delight as they eat, or learning new recipes especially for them, just because one of them had expressed a liking for a certain food. Lainie had called it ‘his love language’ once, earning a sheepish smile from him, but she was right; Matt had many ways of expressing his love for his family, and cooking for them was, undoubtedly, one of his favorites.

Breakfasts, for the most part, were easier to have together as a family; they all got up early enough that they had the time to sit and eat together every morning, before having to leave to get to work and school. The boys would usually be the first ones to leave, with Lainie following shortly after, leaving Matt to be the last one to get out of the house.

He will forever be grateful for the day Lainie had proposed them having these family breakfasts every day; that little slice of family togetherness… it was priceless. Him and Lainie cherished it, and they could tell how much good it had done to Clay, let alone Justin.

It had already become a part of their routine by the time they took him in to permanently live with them, a habit they had to introduce him to, and – from the get-go – he absolutely _loved_ it; while Clay would sometimes wake up tired and grumpy, or just not be in the mood, Justin would almost always be very much eager to get to that moment when they sat together at the table. Apart from absolutely devouring everything on his plate with visible pleasure, all while showering Matt and Lainie with praise for the food (“I never knew oatmeal could be so bomb,” was a recent one that’s brought quite a smile to their faces), they could tell just how much this truly satiated a thirst in him; he was starved for that sort of structure and routine, aching for stability. And those breakfasts provided him not only with that, but also with moments of strengthening and deepening their connection as a family, enriching their relationships with each other and bonding on a daily basis. For Justin, it was invaluable. Matt and Lainie both knew he’d never had that before, not really – and if he did, it was stripped away from him, time and time again. They could see how much he’d longed for it; that sense of connection; those mundane moments of closeness and familyhood. Being able to give that to him, with things as simple as having breakfast together every morning, has brought them inexpressible joy; the kind only felt by parents, when their hearts are at peace.

So, yeah. Matt would say breakfasts were great. 

Dinners, on the other hand, were a bit tricky; with Lainie having to deal with unpredictable workdays and occasionally work overtime, and the boys being out late a lot, all of them gathering around the table at dinner has become a more complicated operation to pull off. They try to have at least three dinners a week with all four of them present at the table, but they don’t stress over it too much; it’s nice when it naturally happens and they can all make it, but it’s also more than okay when they can’t. It’s just life.

Matt’s lasagna recipe was one he was very proud of. It originally belonged to his mother, who showed him how to make it when he was a teenager, and he adored it. As it was with any recipe he’d taken a liking to, he’d immediately begun exploring it and playing around with it (because there lied the fun of it all), changing things up and finding ways to make it even better. He’d improved it little by little over the course of two years, until finally he felt satisfied with his final version of it, marking the end of its evolution. As a child, Clay loved it so much that he practically begged for it every day, eventually driving Matt to give in to his pleas and make it once a week. That lasted about a month, before he and Lainie knew they had to come up with a solution. They agreed to just be up-front with him;

_“We know you really enjoy it, it’s delicious – we like it, too. But, honey, it isn’t good for you to eat on a daily, or even a weekly basis. Plus, if you have it so often, you might get used to it, and then it won’t be as great anymore.”_

While he did not seem to care much for the first part, concerning his health, the second one really seemed to grab young Clay’s attention; it made sense. After that, no more reasoning was needed – he was already convinced. They could have never imagined that conversation would go as smoothly as it did, and they were beyond happy with their decision to just be honest and open with their son. As the years went by, the Jensen Lasagna became a rare-but-loved treat; they didn’t have it a lot, but whenever they did, it was special.

Clay’s been craving it over the past week, and he’s made sure to let them all know just how much by mentioning it at least once a day, usually over breakfast. It’s been a while since the last time they had it, and Matt decided to finally make it again today. Clay looked actually elated when he announced it over breakfast this morning, and Justin found his enthusiasm rather amusing. _“Oh, as if you’re one to talk! You are, like, the biggest eater ever,”_ Clay retorted, and Justin laughed.

Taking into account Justin’s shift at Monet’s and Clay’s tutoring session were both due to be over around eight, and they would probably only be home around eight-thirty, they decided tonight was going to be a late dinner. Recently, they’ve been having a lot of those, and Matt’s growing more and more fond of them; even though these are the hours when he and Lainie both find themselves getting tired – _“Truly, feeling our age,”_ she had joked, once – he couldn’t help but enjoy the change of rhythm. Late dinners had a different kind of pace to them; not a better one, but different. Unhurried. It was a sense of relaxedness; the day was over with, nothing more was expected of them. They know they’re home now, and they can just be. 

––––

A light conversation is flowing through the dining room as they eat, and Justin slowly sips his tea, feeling its warmth traveling through his body and soothing his throat.

Turns out, appetite doesn't always come with eating; while the lasagna really is amazing (and Clay is stoked), Justin only manages to get down half of his plate before giving it up. Resolving to just keep drinking his tea, he listens as his brother talks about… something. In truth, he’s more listening to the sound of his voice than actually registering what he’s saying – the exhaustion fully hitting him now, along with that general feeling of malaise and heaviness that come with a fever. He drinks the last of his tea, setting the mug aside, and rubs a hand over his face.

“Are you done eating, love?” Lainie asks.

“Uh, yeah, I think.”

“Well, if you'd like to, you can go get some rest.” She smiles softly.

Justin nods, slowly getting up from his seat. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna go to bed.” He goes to put his dishes away, and then returns to say goodnight.

“Goodnight, kid,” Matt says, his voice warm.

There’s a flash of something in Justin’s eyes, and he says, “I know I’ve said it already, but the lasagna was really great. I’m sorry I couldn’t–”

“–It’s really fine, kiddo, don’t worry about it.” Matt stops him before he can continue, his tone reassuring. “I’m glad to know you like it. We’re probably going to have a lot of leftovers from it, so you can have it again when you feel like it.” Justin nods, his shoulders relaxing a little. “Sleep well.”

“Goodnight, honey,” Lainie smiles, standing to press a kiss to his forehead, and they watch as he disappears through the back door.

When they’re all finished with dinner, Clay washes his dishes in the sink, and washes Justin’s as well.

“Thank you for the help, sweetheart,” Lainie says, kissing him on the cheek. “Dad and I are going to have some tea; want to join us and have some, before you go? It’s ginger,” she offers with a smile.

Clay opens his mouth to answer, but pauses for a moment, suddenly feeling the need to get back to the outhouse. “Uh, no, thanks, I don’t really feel like it.” He says. “Think I’m gonna head back now, go to bed.”

Lainie nods as Matt finishes putting the two leftover containers in the fridge, closing it afterwards. They say their goodnights, and he leaves through the back door. 

In the outhouse, Justin is asleep, and Clay enters as quietly as he can, closing the door behind him gently. Slipping into his bed after brushing his teeth and setting his alarm for tomorrow, he glances at his brother as he shifts and moves in his sleep, snoring lightly when he rolls over onto his back.

After seven months of sharing a room with Justin, Clay can’t imagine going back to having his own room. To think he spent the first seventeen years of his life having a room all to himself… feels weird now, distant. Having someone around was calming, in a sense. They didn’t have to be doing anything in particular, or even speak – just being there, in the same space, together, gave both boys a sense of security. And there were those little, seemingly insignificant sounds of life; a yawn, the fridge door opening, fabric brushing against skin, fingers typing; a faint, steady stream of inhales and exhales filling the room; all those little sounds of _not being alone_ , brought with them a comfort Clay hadn’t expected. They were reassuring, in a way, and grounding, and they added to that overall sense of security they’d felt in each other’s company. Despite their differences and the occasional bickering, he wouldn’t trade sharing a room together for the world.

As Justin settles, a few moments pass and Clay drifts off to his brother’s soft snoring.

–––– 

After Clay leaves for the outhouse, Lainie reheats some tea on the stove and sits with Matt at the kitchen table. The house is quiet, and they spend a few moments basking in the placidity of the night. 

“What’s on your mind, honey?” Matt asks, taking in his wife’s distracted expression.

“I’m a bit worried about Justin,” she lets out a tired sigh, and takes a sip of her tea.

Matt’s eyes soften. “Well,” he begins, “We’ll take care of him.”

“No – I know, I just…” Lainie shakes her head, the movement small, “You know me. I can’t help but worry. I don’t like him having a fever.”

“Me neither,” Matt agrees, “But we’ll keep an eye on it, like you said. See how he’s doing in the morning, and we’ll take it from there.” Lainie nods, and he continues. “I’m scheduled to work from home tomorrow anyway, so if he needs to stay home, I’ll be here.”

At that, Lainie gives a small smile, and squeezes his hand gently. “Good. Okay.”

He smiles at her, and the conversation shifts; a few more minutes pass as they drink their tea and talk about work and future plans, and the upcoming birthday of Lainie’s sister.

At last, feeling ready to call it a night, they put their mugs in the sink and head upstairs to get ready for bed.

* * *

When he wakes up the next day, Justin feels awful.

Well and truly awful, bad enough that he can’t even bring himself to turn off Clay’s alarm.

His head is pounding heavily behind his eyes, his throat feels raw and swollen, and his whole body aches like he’s been steamrollered. An icy chill rips through him, and before he’s even fully awake, he starts coughing into his pillow.

Clay stirs, reaching to turn off the alarm, and turns to look at his brother. “Hey,” he starts, voice coated with sleep, “You okay…?”

Justin nods, clearing his throat. “Yeah,” he manages, cringing at the sound of his own voice.

Clay frowns. He gets up and walks over to their kitchenette, returning with a glass of water, and hands it out for him to take.

“Thanks,” with visible effort, he pushes himself upright, accepts the glass from Clay’s hand and takes a sip.

Giving him a once-over, Clay’s eyes narrow with concern. “You look worse.”

“Yeah, I feel worse,” Justin sighs, closing his eyes. “Think my fever’s up.”

Before he can make any attempts to stop him, Clay reaches out and presses a cool hand to his forehead. “Oh, shit, yeah,” his eyebrows go up slightly. “Hold on, I’m going to go get Mom to come take your temperature,” he says, already turning to leave, and Justin raises an eyebrow.

“Wait,” he calls, voice strained, and Clay turns around. Justin looks uncomfortable, like there’s something he wants to say and the weight of it is sitting heavily on his chest, but he just can’t bring himself to speak. His eyes cling to Clay, a little desperate.

Clay understands, and his expression softens. “It’s okay,” he nods, voice gentle and even as he speaks. “Let them take care of you.”

For a brief second, Justin looks very young. Then, letting out a tired exhale, he gives a small, accepting nod. Clay answers him with a reassuring look, and leaves the outhouse. When he returns, a few minutes later, Lainie’s with him, holding a thermometer in her hand.

“Morning, sweetheart,” she smiles sympathetically as she crosses the room over to his bed, while Clay goes to use the bathroom and brush his teeth.

Justin coughs into his sleeve. “Morning,” 

Taking in his flushed cheeks and glassy, tired eyes, her eyes soften. “Still not feeling well, huh?”

He coughs again, shaking his head. She presses the thermometer to his forehead, frowning when she looks at the screen.

“Your fever’s worse,” she sighs, hand cupping his heated cheek, then moving down to gently feel his throat with her fingertips, checking for swollen glands. Relieved when she doesn’t feel any, she puts her hand back, and gives him a small, sympathetic smile. “You’re staying home from school today.” Justin nods, unable to find the energy to oppose. “Try and rest, love.”

Clay comes out of the bathroom, and Lainie turns to him. “Alright, your brother’s staying home today.” She says. “You get ready for school, and when you’re finished, come inside to eat.” Looking back at Justin, she adds, “I’m guessing food is a hard ‘no’ right now, right?”

“Yeah, no,” he manages a weak smile, and she nods.

“Okay. But I would like you to try and eat something later. In the meantime, get some rest. I’ll go tell Matt you’re staying with him today, and he’ll come check on you after breakfast.”

“I’ll be fine on my own, really,” he tries, the same uncomfortableness from before written on his face. “I’ll probably just stay here, go back to sleep; no need for him to miss work.”

“Honey, Matt was due to work from home today anyway, so he will be staying with you.” Lainie explains, her voice both gentle and confident. “But even if he were supposed to go in today, one of us would still be staying with you. You don’t worry about us missing work.”

Justin nods, his back sagging a little against the headboard. “Okay.” He says, voice low.

Lainie smiles, nodding back at him. “Can I get you anything?” She asks.

Managing a small smile, Justin shakes his head. “Thank you.”

He lies back down, and Lainie brushes her thumb over his cheek. “Get some sleep, love.” She leans forward, kissing his forehead, feeling him relax under her touch.

Standing up, she presses a kiss to Clay’s forehead as well, before turning around and leaving the outhouse.

––––

Matt is pouring some pancake batter onto a griddle pan when Lainie returns to the kitchen, walking in through the back door. She informs him that Justin’s fever is higher, and that he’ll be staying home today.

“He’s resting now.” She sighs, putting on the coffee pot. “I wish we could just give him some Tylenol… he looked so uncomfortable, Matt.”

“I know, Lain.” He turns to look at her, his eyes comforting. “Let’s hope his fever won’t get any higher, and see how today goes. If the situation calls for it, we’ll take him to urgent care.” She nods, face still tight with concern, and he continues. “Until then, we can only try to make it less uncomfortable for him.”

Lainie sighs, agreeing. “Well, there’s no reason this fever won’t go down on its own,” she says, in an attempt to lessen the worry washing over her heart. “With proper rest.”

“Right.” He looks at her, smiling tenderly. “And I’ll make sure to let you know how he’s doing throughout the day.”

Lainie’s shoulders relax a bit, and before returning to the pancakes, Matt steps closer, kissing his wife.

Breakfast feels a bit strange without Justin, for all of them. Soon enough, though, it’s over, and both Lainie and Clay leave the house for the day. Matt finishes up doing the dishes, and heads over to the outhouse. 

Inside, the lights are off and the room is dim, brightened only a little by soft sunlight filtering through the curtains. Justin is asleep, shivering a little, and Matt carefully pulls the comforter over his shoulder, frowning when he feels the heat radiating off of it. Not wanting to leave his side, he decides to go back and bring his work laptop into the outhouse – pouring himself a cup of coffee on his way – and starts grading papers, sitting at the high table near the boys’ beds.

After a little over two hours of Matt working quietly, occasionally glancing over at his son when he stirs in his sleep, and sipping away at his coffee, Justin begins to wake up.

Seeing him shifting in his bed, Matt gets up and walks over to him. “Hey, kid,” he smiles.

Justin blinks up slowly. “Hey…” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep.

“Want some water?” He offers.

Justin nods, and Matt refills his glass, handing it to him. Sluggishly, he pulls himself to sit up. “Thank you.”

Realizing he’s pretty thirsty, Justin gulps half the glass before putting it down on the nightstand, and coughs harshly.

“How are you feeling, budd?”

More awake now, Justin shrugs. “Not great,” he admits.

Matt nods, taking in the bright feverish flush glowing against his otherwise uncharacteristically pale cheeks. “Do you want to go back to sleep?”

Justin thinks about it, pausing for a moment. “No, I– I don’t think I can sleep anymore.”

“Okay.” Matt says. “Then how about we go inside, put on some movie in the living room? I can take a break,” he offers.

Justin nods, managing a small smile. “Sure.” Despite the protesting ache clinging to his muscles, he swings his legs over the bed and stands up carefully, swaying a little. Matt watches over as he steadies himself, and, together, they walk slowly through the backyard.

Once they’re inside, Justin gets settled on the couch in the living room, and Matt makes them both some tea.

“Here,” Matt smiles, setting one of the mugs on the coffee table next to Justin, who then clears his throat, thanking him. “You sure I can’t get you anything else? Not even some toast?” He asks gently.

Justin shakes his head. “Thanks, but I really don’t think I can stomach anything right now.” He says, sitting up to grab his tea. “Maybe later?”

Matt nods. “Of course.”

Browsing through their DVDs, they end up putting on ‘Home Alone’, since Justin’s never watched it before.

“It’s a classic,” Matt smiles as the opening titles start, the dark screen illuminating with blue text. “You’re gonna love it.”

They watch the movie, slowly sipping away at their tea, and Matt is glad to see that even through his feverish haze, Justin seems to genuinely enjoy it.

“Whoa, this kid’s a genius,” he remarks, eyes shiny with both fever and awe.

Matt can’t suppress his laugh. “He sure is.” 

Halfway through the movie, Justin starts nodding off, his head bobbing forward and jerking him awake.

“I see you’re struggling to stay awake, budd.” Matt says softly. Justin looks at him, drooping eyelids blinking heavily, and he pauses the movie. “It’s important that you rest. Why don’t you lay down, and we’ll continue watching later?”

Nodding, Justin slowly repositions himself on the couch, laying down. Matt rests a glass of water on the table, and drapes a light blanket over him. “I’ll be right here if you need anything, okay?”

Justin nods, already dozing off. “Thank you.”

Feeling a familiar ache echoing through his heart, Matt is taken aback for a moment. Although it has gotten to be less often, Justin still thanks him and Lainie for the simplest things. Things that – to them, as parents – are the most trivial.

He sighs, brushing a few strands of hair away from his son’s heated forehead.

“Of course, kid. Sleep well.”

Two hours pass with Matt teaching a lecture from his home office, grateful for having just one today, and moving to silently work through student emails in the dining room.

After a while, Justin’s sleep becomes fitful; Matt listens for some time as he tosses and turns, coughing, before coming to check on him.

Sprawled out on the couch, with half his face pressed into the couch cushion and the blanket kicked off, Justin is looking noticeably worse. Matt carefully feels his forehead, and frowns at the heat.

“Hi, kid,” he speaks softly, concern bleeding through his voice. “How are you feeling?”

Justin stirs, wincing. “Awful. Everything hurts.”

He tries reaching for his water, and Matt grabs it for him, helping him take a few sips before putting the glass back on the table.

“I’m going to get the thermometer, okay? I’ll be right back.” Matt promises, and Justin lets his eyes shut for a moment. When he opens them, Matt is already back and pressing the thermometer to his forehead, his frown deepening.

“We need to cool you down, son.” He sighs. “I’m going to go upstairs and run you a bath, okay? I know you’re exhausted, but it might help.”

Normally, Justin would be uncomfortable with this idea, but right now everything aches and he’s just _hot_. Pressing the heel of his hand against his temple, he just nods, coughing weakly.

After filling the bath with lukewarm water and grabbing Justin a new change of clothes from the outhouse, Matt is quickly back in the living room.

“We’re all set.”

Justin nods, and Matt watches as he tries to sit up. His movements are sluggish and heavy, and the effort they take does nothing to ease Matt’s increasing concern. He reaches to help him up, and Justin lets himself be supported as Matt’s firm but gentle hands guide him. Even as they move and air passes lightly across his skin, it’s like he’s entirely swathed in a blanket of oppressive heat, weighing him down. It makes him feel almost lightheaded, and Matt supports him when he stands. They stay like that for a moment, standing together as he gains his bearings.

“Think ’m okay to walk.”

Matt nods, still keeping close as they slowly make their way up the stairs and into the bathroom.

“Alright,” Matt says as they enter, with Justin leaning against the wall. “You have some clean clothes right here.”

Justin nods. “Thank you.”

“Sure, kid.” Matt smiles gently. “The water should help. I’ll be right outside if you need anything, okay? If you need help getting up, or if you feel dizzy at any point, let me know and I’ll come help.”

“Yeah, okay,” Justin says, smiling as best as he can.

Matt sighs, shoulders relaxing a bit. Justin looks awake enough. “Okay.”

Leaving the bathroom, he goes to sit on his and Lainie’s bed, with the door to the bedroom open, and hopes this will bring his son some relief.

––––

At first, the tepid water feels freezing against Justin’s skin, and he has to push through the shivering in order to lie down and submerge himself in the bath.

A few minutes later, after finally having adjusted to the temperature, he feels his back relaxing against the wall of the tub, all tension slowly leaving his body. The water starts to feel kind of nice, and he lets out a relieved exhale. Allowing the water to wash away the hazy muddle of his thoughts, he lets his mind go blank and enjoys the feeling of it not being occupied with anything at all. Leaning his head back, his eyes drift around mindlessly, ending up reading the labels on their shampoo and Lainie’s body wash.

“Everything okay in there?” Matt’s voice carries inside.

“Yeah,” Justin tries his best to raise his voice enough, and hopes Matt can hear him on the other side. “I’m fine.”

“Good. You’re not falling asleep, right?”

“No, I’m awake.”

“Alright, just checking. Take your time.”

Justin draws in a deep breath, exhaling slowly. They never had a bath before, at his mom’s. They had moved around Evergreen quite a bit during his childhood – lived in all sorts of places – but never in an apartment with a bathtub in it. He used to take baths at Bryce’s though, sometimes, when they were little; he remembers liking them as a child, playing and splashing around, or just enjoying being blanketed by the water. It was almost like the world stopped for those short moments; the water would lift away everything he had carried, leaving him feeling carefree and weightless. Those days, on his way home, he used to wonder what it was like having a bathtub like that, always be available for you to use. He remembers thinking to himself as a kid, that if they had one at home, Mom would probably enjoy it, too.

Once the water starts getting cold, Justin carefully climbs out of the bath, feeling exhausted, but better. His head feels a bit clearer, and his muscles don’t hurt as much as before. After drying off and getting dressed, he emerges out of the bathroom.

“Hey, kiddo, I was just about to check on you,” Matt walks towards him, smiling. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” Justin replies, watching relief spread across Matt’s features. “I don’t feel as achy as before.” 

“Good. I’m glad to hear that.”

Justin coughs before rubbing a hand over his face. “But I am really tired, though.”

“Understandable. Baths are tiring even when you’re not sick,” Matt smiles. “Go get settled on the couch. I’ll check your temperature, and then I want you to drink some more water before you go to sleep.”

Justin nods, and they walk downstairs.

Matt is relieved when the thermometer shows Justin’s fever dropped a little. He gets him to drink a glass of water, and Justin is already half-asleep when his head hits the pillow. Matt covers him with a light blanket before turning and walking out of the living room.

After fixing himself a snack, he checks his phone. Noting that it’s the usual time for Lainie’s break, he decides to call her.

“Hey, honey,” she answers on the third ring, her voice warm through the phone.

“Hey,” Matt smiles. “Is this a good time to call?”

“Yes. I just finished eating, and I still have some more time before I have to get back.” She says, pausing for a moment. “How are you two doing at home? How’s Justin?”

“He’s feeling pretty terrible,” Matt sighs. “And still has a fever. He woke up for a bit, we watched a movie together, and he went back to sleep. Next time I checked on him, his fever was higher.” Hearing his wife drawing in a tense breath on the phone, he adds, “It wasn’t dangerous, but it was enough to make anyone miserable. I ran him a bath and it got him feeling a little better, and got his fever back down a bit, too. Now, he’s resting.”

“Okay,” Lainie breathes out a concerned sigh. “Have you gotten him to eat anything?”

“Not yet.”

“Do you think we should book him an appointment?”

“I don’t know, Lain,” Matt runs a hand through his hair. “Maybe this was the worst of it.”

“I hope so.” She says. “You say his fever has calmed down a bit, so that’s good. If it stays this way in the next few hours and he doesn’t feel any worse… maybe we should just let it run its course.” Matt agrees, and she adds, “But I don’t want him feeling miserable – if he feels any worse, I’ll take him to the doctor’s tomorrow, regardless of his temperature.”

“That sounds like a good plan.” Matt says. “And I’ll make some soup for dinner tonight.”

“Alright, honey.” Lainie says, calmer now that they’ve decided on what they’re going to do. “I’m going to get back to work, see if I can finish some things off and be home early today. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

They hang up the call, and after checking the fridge to see if they have everything he wants to put in the soup for tonight, Matt goes back to work on his computer.

––––

When Clay gets home from school, he’s surprised to find the outhouse empty.

Dropping off his backpack inside, he pours himself a glass of water and sets out back into the yard, walking over to the back door of the house.

Matt is standing in the kitchen when he enters, cutting some carrots and tossing them in a crockpot. “Hey, kiddo,” he smiles, looking up at him.

“Hi, Dad.” Clay smiles back as he sets his glass on the counter and opens the fridge, in search of something to snack on. He settles on making himself a sandwich.

“Justin is sleeping in the living room.” Matt says, and immediately Clay’s movements are quieter as he sets a plate on the counter. “How was school today?”

“Fine,” he says, turning to look at his dad. “How’s Justin doing?”

“He’s still not feeling too great.” Matt says, watching his son’s face fall slightly. “But he’s been sleeping for a few hours now, so there’s a chance he’ll wake up feeling a bit better.”

“Oh. Okay.” Clay says, his voice quiet and brows knit slightly. Then, he turns to continue making his sandwich.

“I’m making soup for dinner. Anything you want in it?”

“You’re making it for dinner? And you’re starting now?”

“Yes,” Matt smiles as he tosses in some celery. “I’m going to let it cook for a few hours in the crockpot, so I’m starting now. Anything you want me to put in it?”

Clay thinks for a moment. “Uh… you’re making the one that’s super yellow, right?”

“Yes,” Matt laughs, “And that’s the turmeric.”

Clay knows this soup. For as long as he can remember, whenever anyone in their house got sick, that was the one they always made. “Then maybe some sweet potato? If we have any?”

“Nice thought,” Matt’s eyes glint as he smiles. “I’m pretty sure we have some, it’ll make a great addition.”

Smiling back, Clay nods and finishes making his sandwich. Taking his water and his plate over to the dining room, he sees some movement out of the corner of his eye. He glances over at the living room, and finds Justin shuffling to his feet, looking all ruffled.

“Oh. You’re awake.” Clay turns to face him, stepping into the living room. Justin looks up at him.

“Yeah…” he rubs a hand over his face, his voice thick with sleep. “You’re back already?”

“Yeah. It’s, like, half past three,” Clay says, and watches as Justin yawns, then coughs, harsh and rattly. “Jeez, you sound like shit.” He deadpans, though concern shows in his eyes.

“Thanks, Clay.”

Recognizing a hint of amusement laced in Justin’s sarcastic tone, Clay smiles, relaxed by the casual conversation.

Just then, after hearing their voices from the kitchen, Matt walks into the room. “Hi, kid,” he smiles, “It’s good to see you up. How are you feeling?”

Justin looks back at him, wincing slightly when he clears his throat. “Not great, but… a little more alive, I think?”

Matt gives a small, fond smile. “Good. That’s great to hear.”

Justin goes upstairs to wash his face and use the bathroom, and when he comes back, Matt takes his temperature. His fever hovers just below what it was when he last went to sleep – and Matt realizes that means he probably feels a little worse than he’s letting on – but it hasn’t gotten any higher, and it has dropped down a little bit, and that brings him relief. He’s even more relieved when Clay manages to convince him to eat some crackers, and he lets them both have their snacks in front of the TV.

Before returning to the soup, and then to finish off his work for today on the computer, he brings Justin some tea, and texts Lainie an update.

When Clay turns on the TV, a bemused frown forms on his face as he stares at the freezed frame on the screen. “Um. What.”

Looking up, Justin swallows his sip of tea and says, “Oh, yeah, we watched this today.”

Clay turns to look at him. “You watched Home Alone?”

“Yeah, it was cool.” Justin says, all matter-of-fact. “The kid was adorable. Didn’t finish it though, I was kinda falling asleep.”

Realizing it was Justin’s first time watching it, Clay’s furrowed brow smooths out. “Do you want to finish it now?”

Setting his tea back on the table, Justin picks up a cracker from the small plate, smiling. “Sure.”

As it turns out, Clay is very passionate about this film. Keeps calling every scene “iconic”, saying, “Oh my god, look,” and geeking out over tiny details Justin would never have noticed on his first watch. Listening to him being so strikingly opinionated and enthusiastic about the whole thing is just as entertaining as the movie itself. And although Justin mostly watches quietly, occasionally breaking off to cough into his elbow or blow his nose, and isn’t nearly as talkative as he usually is when they watch something together, he gets pretty into it as well; he loves how cartoony it is, laughs at Kevin’s traps and finds them quite impressive. That kid is smart.

“But is he, though? Or are Harry and Marv just really dumb?” Clay challenges, and Justin gives him a look.

“What are you talking about? He just built a _zipline_ with a _bike handle_ ,” he says, brows raised. “I swear, he is the most capable, resourceful child… this is, like, a tiny Elon Musk, inventing things.” Justin watches as Clay breaks out laughing, then starts laughing himself, which in turn makes him cough.

When they finish the movie, Clay says they have to watch the second one ( _“‘cause it’s literally everything you liked in the first one, dialed up to eleven”_ ), but after Matt reminds him that he should start on his homework, they decide to watch it later.

While Clay sits to do his homework in the dining room, Justin stays to rest on the couch, browsing his phone and not really paying attention to anything on the screen. In truth, he still feels pretty awful; despite all the tea, his throat is sore and scratchy, the congestion is annoying and he’s tired of coughing, and the muscle aches are back – although, not as strong and overwhelming as they were earlier today. He’s feeling a bit dazed as he stares at his phone, not really focusing on any of what he sees, and eventually lets his hand drop and allows himself to fully space out.

It's a thing that took him a while to get used to being able to do, and it still feels a bit weird sometimes, letting go and tuning out like that. It’s the kind of freedom he never had before – the option to let his guard down, let himself _not be alert_ all the time. He’d never had a place where he felt safe enough to do that, to not be fully present and let his mind just… drift, aimlessly. In the past, at home, there was always something to be worried about; something he needed to take care of, someone he needed to avoid. He used to think Bryce’s place was somewhere he’d go to relax at, but, now, he can look back and see that wasn’t truly relaxing. It was just a different kind of wariness than the one he’d felt at home. Less intense, but it was wariness all the same. Even there, he was guarded; couldn’t let himself not be.

As the years went by, this feeling of alertness became his baseline – no matter where he was or who he was with, he was always keeping an eye out for something, anything, never fully trusting the ground beneath his feet to not slip away.

Living with the Jensens was rewiring his brain in more ways than just this one, but this was certainly a big one. At the beginning, what they had to offer seemed so foriegn, so different from anything he’d ever known before. It was the kind of stability he’d never even dared to dream of. Accepting it was difficult; first off – he didn’t think he deserved it, and second – he just didn’t know how. It seemed like every day he was being introduced to a whole new language, and relearning the meaning of some words he thought he already knew.

‘Patience’ was undoubtedly one of them; it was a long, slow process – and Matt, Lainie and Clay, all three of them had been so patient with him throughout it all. They let him adjust on his own pace, never pushed him into anything he wasn’t ready for, and, weirdly enough, never gave up on him. Not for a second. Even when he gave them every reason to – _even when he admitted he wasn’t clean_ – their faith in him never faltered. Hell, they were proud of him for coming to them for help, and even though they obviously weren’t happy with knowing he’s been using, they saw his honesty with them as a good thing ( _‘a meaningful step forward’_ , as Lainie called it). They didn’t pull away; they just offered more support. Slowly, Justin found himself starting to accept it. It wasn’t easy – it still isn’t – but he was starting to believe he was worthy of it, too.

Over time, he started feeling more comfortable, more secure in this stability, and little by little, allowed himself to drop his guard. When he’s at home, he can let go, _be vulnerable_ ; it’s okay.

As he’s laying on the couch right now, he hears Matt’s footsteps in the kitchen, and out of the corner of his eye, sees Clay sitting hunched over the dining table; the washing machine is going upstairs, rumbling softly, and Justin lets his mind float, feeling safe.

––––

Coming home to all three of her boys in the house together, this early, Lainie can't help but smile to herself.

Lately, after coming home from school, Clay and Justin mostly stayed holed up in the outhouse, doing their schoolwork and hanging out by themselves till dinner. It feels nice, having them both in the house, along with Matt, this early in the evening.

As she moves inside, Clay is the first one to greet her. “Hey, Mom.”

“Hi, honey,” she smiles, hugging her son and kissing his head. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good,” he glances down at the books open on the table. “Nearly finished with homework.”

“That’s great.” She gives him a warm look, and he sits back down.

Then, Matt walks down the stairs, looking freshly showered. They greet each other with a hug and a brief kiss. “Soup’s cooking in the kitchen.” He smiles at her. “How are you?”

“I’m alright. Bought some more ginger on my way home.” She says, smiling back at him.

Moving to the living room, Justin gives a weak smile when he sees her, and pushes himself to sit up. “Lainie, hey.”

“Hi, love.” She smiles, crossing the room and kissing his forehead.

“How are you feeling?”

Justin shrugs, looking worn out. “Not the best.”

“I see.” She sighs, smiling sympathetically. “Hopefully, you’ll start feeling better in the next couple days. But, honey – if you feel any worse, it’s important that you let us know. Okay?”

Looking at her, Justin nods. “Okay.” He clears his throat, and then adds, “Right now, I just kinda feel the same as I felt when I woke up this morning.”

Lainie nods. “Do you want to get some more sleep, and I’ll wake you in a couple hours for dinner?”

Justin huffs a laugh. “I don’t think I can sleep anymore. Honestly, I slept so much today, I don’t even know if I’ll be able to fall asleep at night.” 

Smiling, Lainie says, “Oh, you’ll have no problem falling asleep tonight, trust me. Fevers are exhausting. But right now, as long as you’re resting, that’s good.”

Justin nods, coughing a little into his sleeve, and Lainie makes him some tea before leaving to take a shower.

By the time she comes back downstairs, Clay has joined Justin in the living room. They’re sitting close on the couch, talking quietly, and Clay shows him something on his phone that makes them both laugh. Feeling her heart swell with content, Lainie sighs at the sight of her boys looking so peaceful.

Then, Matt emerges from the kitchen, holding two mugs of coffee, and hands her one.

“Thank you, honey.” She smiles, taking a sip, and they join their boys in the living room.

––––

The rest of the evening seems to pass both slowly and quickly, for Justin; time kind of melts. They watch ‘Home Alone 2’, and Clay was right – it really was the same exact movie as the first one, with just more of everything, so he manages to enjoy it despite losing his focus a few times and only getting bits and pieces of the story.

When it’s time to eat, he shuffles to the table, tired of the couch, and although he can’t taste much of the soup, it warms him up, and he eats slowly.

There’s a light conversation flowing around the table and even though he only half-listens to it, it brings him comfort. For the better part of his life, being sick usually meant being alone; he has a few bleary memories of his mom taking care of him when he was little, but as he grew older and her addiction got worse, Justin had to learn to deal with being sick by himself. He’d normally try to push through whatever it was and ignore it, but when he couldn’t, he’d usually just hole up in his room for a few days with some painkillers and try to sleep it off. It was just easier that way. Sometimes, he’d have to do the holing-up-and-waiting-it-out thing at Bryce’s, but that wasn’t much of a change; no matter where he was, he’d still deal with it alone. He got used to that. Over the years, he’d learned to find a certain comfort in that, too; in many, many times, for Justin – being alone also meant being out of harm’s way.

That was a big plus.

On the other side of that coin, though, there would be times when he’d get so sick he couldn’t even get out of bed to grab himself some water. And there was nothing he could do about it; just hold on and ride it out. But, as much as these times sucked, that’s just how things were; at the end of the day, he was used to being on his own and taking care of himself, and he was fine with it. He had to be.

Since starting to live with the Jensens, Justin had to adjust to the opposite of that. In all sorts of ways – the way they speak, the things they do, and even just the way they look at him – Matt and Lainie have made it clear that becoming a part of this family meant being cared for, and not having to bear the weight of his struggles alone anymore. From bigger things, like dealing with his addiction and trauma, to smaller, simpler stuff, like needing advice on something or not feeling well; they were there for him. _“It’s what they do,”_ Clay told him once. Lainie packs his and Clay’s lunch every day, and Matt has a habit of asking them if they slept well at night, and slowly, he’s been growing more at home with this not-alone feeling. It’s nice. Sometimes, it feels like healing.

When they’re done eating, with Justin successfully finishing his bowl of soup, Clay takes a look at him and suggests they make an early retreat to the outhouse.

“You sure?” He asks through a yawn. “I mean, I’m gonna go to bed, but it’s still pretty early.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Clay replies, looking confident. After bringing their dishes to the sink, they return to say goodnight.

“Goodnight, loves,” Lainie presses a kiss to each of their heads. “Justin, if you need anything, or if you need us to come, tell Clay, okay?”

He glances at Clay, who gives a small, assuring nod. “Yeah, okay.”

Lainie smiles, satisfied, and moves for Matt to hug them. “Goodnight, boys. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Goodnight.”

––––

Clay is not tired.

Well, he is, but not enough to fall asleep yet. He’s half-sitting, half-laying in his bed with headphones plugged in, browsing his phone and watching videos, waiting for his eyelids to grow heavy.

It didn’t take long for Justin to fall asleep, though; by the time Clay finished brushing his teeth, his brother was already out.

It was pretty much what he’d expected; it really was still early when he suggested they return to the outhouse for the night, so he figured it would take some time and a bit of willing himself into it before he could fall asleep. He doesn’t mind it – he likes having this time to himself. There’s comfort in laying in a dark, quiet room at the end of the day; the stillness of everything allows his mind to unwind, and he finds it soothing. Some nights, when his anxiety is bad, it works the other way around; but not tonight.

Being in bed this early doesn’t happen often, so even though it feels a bit odd, he’s happy for the opportunity to catch up on sleep. Other than that, though, if he were honest – not returning with Justin to the outhouse would just… not feel right. They usually stay for longer in the main house after dinner, and almost always return to the outhouse together. It was just a habit, by now. If neither one of them is out for the evening and they’re both home, they would go together; so even though he wasn’t particularly tired, returning with Justin tonight and laying awake for a bit while Justin was fast asleep in his bed next to him just felt sort of natural.

When he finally feels sleep tugging at him, Clay puts his phone away and lowers his back onto the bed. A few moments later, as Justin’s even breathing fills the room with its steady rhythm, he drifts off, feeling whole.

* * *

The next day, Justin’s fever doesn't budge, and Lainie stays with him.

They spend the morning idly watching movies in the living room, and Lainie is glad to see Justin reaching for the cookie plate she placed on the table with their tea, earlier.

“These are really good,” he says, taking another one.

“Right?” Lainie smiles, then offers, “Try dipping them in the tea.”

She watches as Justin carefully dunks a cookie in his mug, and proceeds to take one herself.

“Oh, wow,” his eyes light up, brows raising slightly in surprise. “That’s _amazing_.”

Lainie chuckles as he takes another bite of his cookie, finishing it off. “You know, these cookies were actually my sister’s favorite, growing up. They were the only thing she would never refuse, even when she was sick.”

“I can see why,” he smiles, licking his fingers.

“I was actually thinking we could empty out a couple packages, fill up a nice box and bring it with us for when we come over to visit for her birthday next week.” She says. “What do you think?”

“That sounds really nice,” he says, looking back at her. “I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”

Taking in her son’s relaxed face, Lainie smiles. Marie was the first person Justin had met out of their extended family, when she was in town a few weeks ago and dropped by for a spontaneous visit.

The boys were in school when Marie called her, asking if it would be okay for her to come over that day before she had to drive back. Lainie remembers texting the boys to check if they’re okay with having her over for dinner, and getting easy ‘yeah, sures’ from both of them not long after. A couple hours later, though, she got another text from Clay, saying that Justin is definitely nervous about this. Sure enough, he was unnaturally quiet when they got home, and despite trying to not let it show, his uneasiness was pretty hard to miss. They had a talk, and Lainie made sure to let him know that it really was okay if he didn’t feel ready yet, that they’d completely understand – Marie included. Justin admitted that he was feeling nervous, but insisted that he’ll be fine, and that he wants to meet her. _“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready,” he admitted. “Plus, if I put it off today, I’ll just be more nervous for when I do meet her, eventually.”_

And when evening came, dinner was a success; Marie was a very warm, chatty person, and she was very happy to finally meet him, but knew how to not be overwhelming, and, gradually, Justin’s anxiousness melted away as he warmed up to her. Before long, conversation was flowing smoothly between the five of them around the table, and Justin’s sunny smile shone bright.

At the end of the night, before leaving, Marie pulled him in for a warm hug, and he returned it. Once she was out the door, the boys went to wash the dishes together, and Lainie heard Clay’s voice as they started walking over to the kitchen. _“I told you she’s cool. She’s the cool aunt.”_ At that, she heard a low, gruntled laugh coming from Justin, and then, _“Yeah, she is. You know, I can’t believe it went so well… tonight was really good.”_

And as the water started running in the sink, muffling the rest of their conversation, Lainie felt her heart swell with blissfulness. At that moment, it seemed like everything fell into place so beautifully; they still had a long way in front of them, and Justin still had a lot of their family left to meet, but that dinner with Marie just felt right. It strengthened her confidence that they were on the right path, and judging by the way Justin breathed that evening, _easier and more fully_ , she had no doubt in her mind that it strengthened his confidence in that path, too.

Now, seeing him at ease at the mention of their trip to visit for Marie’s birthday next week, that same feeling of bliss echoes through her.

“Yeah, I think so, too.” She smiles. “It’s settled, then; a box of cookies.”

Justin nods, smiling back.

They get back to watching the movie for a bit, and eventually Justin dozes off. Lainie drapes a light blanket over him, pressing a gentle, brief kiss to his forehead. She then turns the TV off, and quietly goes to wash their mugs in the sink.

––––

Justin’s fever persists for the entire day, until it finally breaks over the night.

When he wakes up the next morning, his sheets are a tangled mess around his legs and he’s covered in sweat, and he feels gross and sticky, but better. Matt and Lainie decide to keep him home from school for a couple more days while the rest of his symptoms die down, to give him time to rest and gain his strength back, and to allow his body to recover completely.

Letting himself be taken care of still doesn’t come naturally to Justin; Lainie can tell. From the way his eyes hesitate before answering when they ask him how he feels or if he wants anything from the kitchen, from the almost apologetic tone his voice wore sometimes during those first days, when the answer to the former question was not one of improvement – as if saying anything other than “better” is letting them down, from the confusion written on his face when he comes back to the outhouse after taking a shower, to find her making the bed for him; from a thousand micro-expressions flashing across his face throughout that week, Lainie can tell.

It’s all a bit foreign to him, still. At the same time, though – he’s slowly settling into it, letting himself settle into it, and she can see that as well; after telling him she’ll take care of the dishes, he doesn't insist on doing them, he’s not downplaying how he feels, and when she rests her palm against his forehead, he leans a little into her touch. Justin accepts being cared for with less and less hesitation every day, and, little by little, grows more confident in believing he is deserving of care in the first place.

As she makes another batch of tea, Lainie thinks back to where they all started and where they are now.

With Justin becoming more and more sure of his place in their home with each day that passes, getting used to this ground that will stay firm and unswerving under his feet, and anchoring himself in it, she simply could not be more proud.


End file.
